


Rogue’s Sleep

by Nervous_Artist



Category: BFU - Fandom, Buzzfeed Unsolved
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blood, Blowjobs, CC Tinsley whump, Cowboy boyfriends, Cowboys, Horses, I looked it up. No good lube back then., JUST GUYS BEIN DUDES, M/M, Old Timey medicine, Old timey everything since this was set in the Old Times, Ricky Goldsworth Whump, This is my first fic. Please be nice to me., Violence, Whump, dont worry about it, just a fuck ton of whump, old timey fist fights, probably lots of hurt/comfort, risky lube choices, they’re cowboys- what did you expect?, what’s better than that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 07:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19313797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nervous_Artist/pseuds/Nervous_Artist
Summary: C.C. Tinsley is the sheriff of a dusty western town. Set with the task of stopping a series of train robberies, he runs into a peculiar criminal with the name of “Goldsworth.” This criminal has stolen a lot, and Tinsley’s heart is next on the list.





	1. A Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my first fic, and I hope y’all like it. This story is mostly self indulgent, but isn’t that what all stories are in the end?

The floorboards of the office were warped at the edges, worn down by countless spurred boots,and covered in a powdery red dust. These boards were getting a lot of attention lately, as Tinsley glared down through the slits of his fingers. This case had taken a lot from him, especially in the last few months he had been easier to anger, his usual calm down the drain. He slipped his wiry hands from his eyes with a sigh, and turned his attention to the newspaper in front of him. 

“TRAIN BANDIT STILL ON THE LOOSE,” the paper screamed at him. It has been an entire year since the series of gruesome train robberies began, and he still didn’t know a damned thing about who was orchestrating it. Just this morning, another robbery sent passengers fleeing, begging for their lives as their belongings were rooted through and stolen. The town was counting on him as the sheriff to catch the culprit of these deadly acts, but he could not muster up a bit of evidence as to who it could be. 

Tinsley’s head shot up as there was a shrill knock on the door, muttering a quick come in before turning his attention back to the paper. The uncertain steps and shaky breath was unmistakably that of Banjo Mcclintock, Tinsley’s nervous deputy. 

“Sir?”

“Make it quick, Banjo. I don’t have all day,” Tinsley shot back, his usual impatience spiking. 

“I thought you might want to know,” Banjo began rubbing his cheek gently with the back of his hand, “someone shot one of the bandits today, and carted him back here. He’s in Fear’s place.” 

“You’re joking,” Tinsley sat forward, hands flat on his desk, eyes fiery, “Banjo, please tell me you’re not serious” 

“I- I thought you would be happy,” Banjo muttered, looking straight down at the floor. He was about the same height as Tinsley, all thin limbs and long features. These limbs were now wrapped tight around his torso in a self hug. He scratched at the thick brown mustache under his nose. 

“I’m happy alright.” Tinsley laughed, getting up from his chair in one swooping motion, “I’m ecstatic, to be honest, I just feel bad for the other guy.” 

“Why would you-“

“I feel bad, Banjo,” said Tinsley, sauntering over to his partner, slapping a hand onto his bony shoulder, “Because I’m going to have to give him hell before he talks.” Banjo swallowed, bobbing his Adam’s apple up into his chin. Tinsley laughed. “You say he’s at Dr. Fear’s place? Give me a moment to gather up some supplies. I’ll meet you over there.” 

Banjo eagerly left his office, closing the door quietly behind him. He did everything quietly, it seemed. Tinsley smiled to himself as he walked over to his desk and crouched, fiddling with the sticky drawer before pulling it open and grabbing the contents, a half drunk bottle of whisky. He straightened back up, knees popping before he strode over to his office door and pulled it open. He strutted out onto the dirt street like he owned the town, boots thumping noisily beneath him. He had left his hat in his office, so the glaring sun beat down relentlessly onto his head. He never liked the west, but he supposed it was where he was supposed to be. People came and went, but Sheriff Tinsley was forever a constant. 

Tinsley stepped up onto the wooden porch of Dr. Fear, giving the front door three quick knocks before Banjo pulled it open.

Fear’s office doubled as his house. Tinsley could see into a door to his left leading to a wood stove and a meek table. Another door to his right led to a meager sitting room, filled with a couple of couches, a cot, and several picture frames nailed crookedly to the wall. The door in front of him, however, was closed. He could hear a low string of curses trailing through the cracks paired with several metallic clanks. 

“Where is he?” Asked Tinsley, stepping inside. 

“In the back room, sir,” said Banjo, fiddling with the worn deputy’s badge pinned to his chest. Tinsley gestured for Banjo to stay in the hall, stepping around the thin figure, and walking towards the back door. He pulled it open, and was met with a hot glare that could pierce metal. 

The criminal was laid out on a small operating table, covered with a thin sheet, shirtless, with arms and legs tied to the legs of the table. Tinsley could see a weeping bullet wound in his left shoulder, along with several thick bruises forming on his angular face. Tinsley stepped towards him. 

“What’s your name, partner?” Tinsley questioned cautiously, crouching down to stare into both of his swollen eyes. 

“I don’t need to tell you a damned thing,” the criminal snarled, nose wrinkling balefully. 

“Suit yourself,” Said Tinsley, straightening back up to his full height, “but I thought you might want some of this.” He swirled the bottle of whiskey in front of the man’s face, watching his pain-filled eyes light up. This man was desperate. 

“Goldsworth.” The criminal said quickly, eyes following the slow swirl of whiskey in the bottle. 

“Is that the only name your parents gave you?” Questioned Tinsley, bending a bit closer to the man’s face. 

“No, but it’s the only one you’re going to get,” Goldsworth spat, eyes still intent on the liquid perched in front of him. 

“I can work with that,” said Tinsley, unscrewing the bottle and leaning in close to the other man. He brought the bottle close to his lips, and tilted it slowly. The man gulped it in like it was air, eyes streaming. Eventually, Goldsworth pulled away, some of the golden liquid dribbled down his chin. Tinsley pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, and gently wiped away the excess liquid, Goldsworth nodded his thanks. 

Suddenly, a small figure burst through the door, burdened with a heavy bag. 

“Sorry about the wait, boys,” the figure exclaimed, struggling with the weight of the black saddle bag slung over his left shoulder, “I had some trouble locating my bone saw.” 

“It’s no trouble at all, Dr.Fear,” chirped Tinsley, helping the man lift the bag onto the small table next to them, “me an’ Goldsworth here were just having a little chat.” 

“Oh wonderful!” Fear opened his bag and grabbed a handful of tools, placing each of them in a straight line on the table in front of him, “And how is our patient doing, hm?” 

“Could be better,” rasped Goldsworth. He pulled at the ropes around his wrist, and winced as the rough fibers cut into his skin. 

“That’s too bad,” whined Tinsley, feigning a frown, “I wonder if that’s how the people on that train felt this morning.” Goldsworth looked away pointedly, clearly refusing to talk. Tinsley didn’t expect him to cave that easily, but maybe a bit of pain would change his mind. 

“I’m going to clean the wound now,” said Fear, reaching for a small towel next to his saddle bag, “Tinsley, could I borrow some of that whiskey?” 

“Be my guest.” The bottle was eagerly handed to the doctor. Fear unscrewed the cap with short fingers, and dumped a small sum onto the bullet wound. Goldsworth closed his left eye tightly, feet flexing upward towards him. 

“So, Goldsworth,” Tinsley began, moving into his line of sight, “I heard you were shot on the job. That true?” The man scrunched his eye even tighter when Fear wiped the blood away with the towel. 

“What do you think?” 

“Oh, I was just wondering, you see, It’s very important to me that I know who you’re working with, so you might want to fess up soon.” 

“What are you going to do about it? I already have a bullet in my shoulder.” 

“You might be surprised,” said Tinsley. Goldsworth scoffed at this, resting his head back onto the table. The metallic clink of tools permeated the silence.

“Okay, boys,” Fear chimes in, “It’s time for the fun part.” He picked up a dull looking knife, and brought it steadily to Goldsworth’s shoulder, looking pointedly at him before cutting in. A new bloom of blood ran down his shoulder as he gritted his teeth hard, eventually giving in to the pain and letting out a strangled moan. 

“Goldsworth.” Said Tinsley, trying to get the man’s attention. His statement was answered by another groan of pain. “Goldsworth,” Tinsley said again, a bit louder, he could see the man’s eyes fluttering, rolling back into his head as he threatened to pass out. Tinsley took a handful of the man’s hair and slammed his head down onto the table. Goldsworth’s eyes shot open. “You don’t get to pass out until you tell me what I need to know. Who were you working for?”

The criminal looked at him with wide streaming eyes, wincing as Fear took the knife back out of his shoulder “I- I can’t tell you.” 

“I think you can.” 

“You don’t know what you’re up against.” Goldsworth said through gritted teeth. He watched Fear pick up a pair of long tweezers with guarded eyes. Fear didn’t give him a warning before plunging them deep into his shoulder. Tinsley waited as he screamed. 

“Do you want to tell me? Or will I have to ask Fear here to prolong your treatment? I hear he’s been testing some new supplies.” 

“I- aah, I really shouldn’t.” Goldsworth was squirming now, as Fear dug deeper into his shoulder. 

“But you can, and you will.” Snarled Tinsley, growing closer to Goldsworth’s face. The other man paled, and closed his eyes tight. 

“Tell me who you were working for,” snarled Tinsley as he took a tight hold of the other man’s jaw. 

“Woodruff” said Goldsworth stiffly. Tinsley let go of his jaw in shock. He tried to cover up his surprised expression with a scowl, but he wasn’t quick enough. He saw a hint of confusion in Goldsworhs eyes before he passed out completely, body going limp on the table.


	2. Some Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, dudes.

Tinsley left Fear’s office in a stupor, almost running into Banjo on his way outside. He had forgotten completely about his partner during the events that had just recently transpired. Tinsley stooped on the porch, listening to the distant whinnies of horses, and drinking in the evening air. Stars speckled the skyline, and a cool breeze rustled his clothing. 

Banjo followed Tinsley out, slouched like a stray puppy. “Did you get him to talk?”

“I sure did,”

Banjo straightened up, grinning a sideways smile. “That’s amazing! Did he tell you who’s orchestratin’ the whole thing?” 

Tinsley nodded, a solemn gesture. “That’s all I need to know to solve the case. We should be takin’ this creaton to jail within months.” 

Banjo’s brows shot up with glee, his smile widening. “This must be cause for a celebration,” he leaned into Tinsley, arm sloped lazily around his shoulder, “I say me an’ you go get a drink. You up for it?” 

Tinsley considered the offer with a small smile. There was no way he could turn down Banjo, it would break the kid’s heart. The answer was easy, “Alright, Banjo. I’ll get a drink, but on one condition.” 

Banjo turned, “And what might that be?” 

“You’re paying.” 

___

 

The saloon was hazy, filled with smoke and dust. Patrons scattered the round wooden tables perched across the floor. A lazy piano tune was audible behind the bustle of the night. Tinsley was perched on the bar spanning the right side of the joint, slouching over the counter. Banjo’s posture wasn’t much better, head in one hand, drink in the other. 

Banjo leaned his head towards Tinsley’s, letting his hand fall from his face onto the counter in front of him. “So what did you do to the guy to rough him up?” 

“Oh, nothing much.” Tinsley’s eyes were on his hands, picking the dirt from underneath his fingernails.

“Did he fold that easily?”

“He was almost delirious with pain. I think that will make anyone fold, no matter how tough.”

Banjo nodded solemnly before taking a swig from his drink. Tinsley watched him with sad eyes. “So who’d he say was runnin’ the thing? Who’s our guy?” 

Tinsley looked down, then up, then back down at his hands. He swirled his thumb on the counter, tracing a lopsided circle into the thin layer of dust coating it. Banjo raised a questioning eyebrow before finishing off his drink. Tinsley just watched him. 

“Well, who is he?” Banjo asked a bit louder. 

“Woodruff,” Tinsley choked out. Banjo’s eyes shot up to meet his, and Tinsley could see a rush of emotion battle behind his eyes. He seemed to forget how to control his features, and was performing the facial equivalent of freeform jazz. Tinsley watched concerned, as Banjo pushed away from the counter, and staggered outside. 

“Shit.”

—

Tinsley found him folded in half behind the saloon, breathing hard. The sheriff cleared his throat before approaching, giving the other man time to straighten up, and run his hands roughly over his face.

“I’m sorry, Banjo-“

“I remember everything, you know,” Banjo’s words were stiff, filled with resolve, “I need to kill him.”

“Banjo-“ 

“No, I don’t care if he kills me, you can just get another deputy. I’m serious.” 

“I’m old, Banjo! You’re the only person who knows this job as well as me. What am I supposed to do, train another deputy? Let me go after him.” 

Banjo slid down the back wall of the saloon, arms around his knees. He took in a shaky breath, blowing it back out into the crook of his elbow. The faint, warbling tune of the piano trickled out into the night, and a slight calm washed over the atmosphere. Tinsley watched as Banjo took off his hat, and rubbed his stubbled face. 

“Now, Banjo, you understand that I will have to go after Woodruff.” Banjo nodded, and slid farther down the wall, landing on his side with a muffled thud. “And you will have to look after the town while I’m gone.” The deputy had taken to picking up pebbles from the dirt, and dropping them lightly into his hat one by one. He didn’t say another word. 

Tinsley sighed, and crouched down to get Banjo’s attention, placing a slim hand onto his shoulder. “Banjo, stand up please, and dump those rocks out of your hat.” Banjo complied, hefting himself onto his knees, then all the way up to eye level. He held his hat tightly in his hands, letting the pebbles trickle out one by one. Tinsley placed each of his hands on his partners shoulders in a fatherly gesture. 

“I know you can do it, Banjo.” Tinsley punctuated his sentence with a small shake of his partner’s shoulders, making Banjo sway on his feet. A small smile lit up his face. “You’re the most qualified for this position. I have full faith in you.” Tinsley let his hands fall from the other man’s shoulders, making sure to look Banjo in the eye. 

“Thanks, Tinsley.” Banjo gave a sideways grin, before hugging the sheriff tightly. Tinsley jumped, hands hovering awkwardly over Banjo’s shoulders before settling gently around his ribcage. Banjo didn’t pull away until Tinsley cleared his throat, guiding the other man gently away from him. 

“Let’s get you home, son.”


	3. Maps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ricky begs for relief. Tinsley doesn’t give a shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one. Oof.

The day was hot. The days were always hot here. Tinsley watched the townsfolk through the windows of his office. They walked lethargically, the light beating down on their heads, box turtles drying out in the hot sun. 

He turned his attention back to the desk in front of him. A yellowed map of the desert, accompanied by a small compass was spread on the table. He studied the small ink circles dotting the warped paper. These were the possible locations of the infamous killer, Woodruff. He sighed heavily, rolling up the paper while pocketing the compass.

He stood, back aching, preparing himself for the struggle to come. Walking around his desk, he re-adjusted the weights in the wall clock behind him. He was stalling, he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. 

Finally, with a weary resolve, Tinsley ducked out the door, and into the day. He passed each shop distractedly, the saloon, the tailor, the stables, then the cemetery. He stopped, and noted each of the measly wooden crosses dotting the land like thorns in the back of an animal. Several new graves were scattered across the expanse, raw and fresh. Some drying flowers littered the ground. The most recent train heist took quite a toll on the town, leaving its residents scared to leave. He shook his head rapidly, clearing his mind, before turning down the road to Fear’s place. 

Tinsley stepped softly onto the porch, giving the door three sharp knocks before a distant voice bade him in. He walked quickly through the halls, opening the door of the operating room. 

Goldsworth was still laid miserably out on the table, hands and feet tied to the legs. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep. His brows were furrowed, and his skin was ashen. A blood stained bandage spanned his entire left shoulder. He looked terrible. 

“You look terrible,” Tinsley said, stepping close to the other man. Goldsworth’s eyes cracked open, and he rolled them back into his head. 

“I feel it, too.” 

“Well I’ve come to take you to the prison. You can keep bein’ miserable over there.” Goldsworth’s eyes shot open. He turned his head stiffly to focus on Tinsley. 

“You can’t do that.” 

“I can.” 

“I’m still healing. Fear will stop you.” 

“Why don’t I ask him myself,” said Tinsley, turning his head to the door, and shouting for Fear. He turned his head back to Goldsworth proudly, listening to the bumbling steps of the doctor growing louder as he made his way to the room. 

“You called,” Fear peeked his head into the doorway. A pair of metallic goggles were perched on his balding head. 

“Yes, indeed I did,” Tinsley announced, “I was wondering if I can take this man to the jailhouse today. He’s had a luxurious night’s sleep here, and I’m sure he’s ready to be incarcerated.” 

Fear rubbed his cheek pensively. “I suppose… just call me if he experiences any major discomforts.” 

“I’m already experiencing major discomfort,” spat Goldsworth through gritted teeth, “I need to stay here.”

Fear shook his head minutely. “Major discomfort is normal for a man in your situation. Give it a few days, and I’ll check back up on you.” With that, he stalked out of the room, nodding to Tinsley as he left. 

Tinsley turned to Goldsworth, straightening out his coat with his free hand. “Well I suppose that’s that. Now, I’m gonna give you two choices here. You can either accompany me to the jailhouse, then the gallows… or, you can lead me to your humble leader Woodruff, and get off scot free.”

Ricky furrowed his brows, turning his head away from Tinsley to hide his watery eyes. “Woodruff.”

“Very good, partner. I’ll inform Fear that you can stay here for the next couple of nights.” 

“Can you get that bastard to loosen these here restraints, too?” Ricky pulled experimentally at the ropes, paling significantly as his bandage pulled at his shoulder. 

“I’ll see what I can do, but I won’t make no promises.” The sheriff pat Ricky’s leg gently, turning to walk out the door. 

“That’s all I could ask for.”

“I’ll come back later to check up on ya, oh, and also-“ Tinsley turned back to the criminal, spreading the map in front of him, “see if you can circle Woodruff’s location on this map. That’s all I’ll ask of you tonight.” 

“I’ll see what I can do, but I won’t make no promises,” Ricky grinned at the sheriff’s dismay, chuckling to himself as he slumped out the door. Twenty minutes later, Dr.Fear entered to loosen his restraints. The relief was second to death.


	4. In which Tinsley represses his feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky has none of Tinsley’s shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I’m just gonna go with shorter chapters. They’re less daunting, and I’m lazy. I finished this at 3:00 am and I have no regrets. Enjoy

The next time Tinsley entered the dingy operating room, Ricky was gone. A white sheet covered the table, billowing slightly in the breeze from an open window. Tinsley swirled on his heel urgently, storming out the door with a quiet curse. 

“Where is he?” Tinsley had caught Fear by the collar of his shirt in the hallway. The doctor’s brows furrowed. 

“What? I-“

“Where the fuck is Goldsworth?”

“Oh, the bandit? I moved him. Upstairs. Needed the room for someone else.”

“Christ, don’t do that to me,” Tinsleys shoulders relaxed slightly as he stepped back, hands fiddling with his coat, “the window was open, I thought-“

“The man hadn’t bathed in a week, sheriff. I don’t know if you noticed, but it smelled like the damn stables in there.” 

Tinsley sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Right, right. Sorry, doctor.” 

“No worries. Do you want to see him?”

“Please.” 

“After you, then.” Fear gestured to a rickety staircase across the room. Tinsley reluctantly stepped onto the first step, the wood wailing beneath his weight. He took the steps two at a time, trying to be as quiet as possible. “Slow down, would you?” Fear quipped from behind him, “Your legs are like damn beanstalks.”

“I apologize for my height, doctor, but I’m quite eager to see Mr. Goldsworth. We have work to do.” 

“Well you’ll be delighted to know that we’re here.” Fear crested the steps, panting slightly. The third door to the left. I’m afraid I must leave you to it. I have another patient to work on.” And with that, Fear left back down the steps. 

He could have just told Tinsley which door to pick, but the sheriff supposed he was trying to be hospitable. He turned slightly to face the door, hands wringing his coat. Stepping forward, he let three quiet knocks grace the wood. He was met with silence. Quietly, he cracked open the door. The hinges squeaked in protest. 

Ricky was on an actual bed this time, sound asleep. The sheets bunched and tangled around his legs. He was still tied to the bed, but the restraints gave him enough room to move without being able to reach the knots underneath the bed frame. 

Tinsley stepped in quietly, gazing at the sleeping man. His mouth hung slightly open as he snored softly. He looked younger, Tinsley thought. His eyes drifted down, grazing across his torso. The sheriff shook his head, and pulled his gaze away. 

“A picture would last longer, sheriff.”

Tinsley jumped, and stepped back, looking incredulously at the other man. “Christ, Ricky. You’ll kill me if you keep doing that.” 

“Sorry,” Ricky’s voice was thick with sleep, “I just couldn’t help but notice your… curiosity.” 

“That was nothing, Goldsworth,” Tinsley’s face grew hot, “I was checking for signs of fever. Sweating, flushed limbs, you know.”

“Sure.” Ricky settled back into his pillow a bit, a smirk adorning his face. 

“So, how- how are you feeling?” Tinsley stepped forward, grabbing the back of a chair and scraping it across the floor. He sat, leaning forward to listen. 

“I’m alive, if that counts for something,” Ricky grimaced. 

“It indeed does. Did you look at the map at all? See anything familiar?” 

“I did.” Ricky gestured to the crinkled map by his bedside. “Woodruff has a base just east of Numbhollow. It’s guarded heavily, but I could easily get in. I’ve lived there all my life.” 

Tinsley scowled, wondering how rough a kid would have it there. 

“You could probably tag along. If I disguise you, of course. Woodruff always has a party for his wife’s birthday. It’s coming up, and I’m sure we could kill him then.The hard part would be getting out safe.”

“Why are you so eager to kill him? You’ve lived there all your life. Didn’t he raise you in a way?” 

Ricky grimaced. It seemed he was doing that a lot lately. “He’s… not a good man. I know it’s hard to imagine, seeing as crime bosses are such nice people, but he’s not right in the head.” 

“What-“

“I don’t want to talk about it. All I’m saying is we go in, we kill him, we get out, then I’m gone. Okay? We’re not friends, sheriff, even though you keep eyeing me like I’m a pretty piece of meat.”

Tinsley blushed, looking pointedly away. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not fucking eyeing you, okay? Do you even know how normal humans interact? I know you were basically raised like a wild animal, but people look at each other when they talk, alright?” 

Ricky bared his teeth, pulling reflexively at the restraints. “I was raised just fine. You seem to be the one who forgot his manners. I’m done talking, get the fuck out.”

Tinsley scoffed, standing roughly from the chair and storming out of the room. He wasn’t eyeing him. He didn’t like Ricky. Even though he was built like he handled horses all day, and his face was perfectly angled, and- Tinsley growled in annoyance, storming down the stairs and out the door without so much as a goodbye to the doctor. He needed a drink.


	5. Let's get moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley tries his best. Ricky is a little bitch about it

Horses, saddles, food, drink, guns, clothes, map, and fire.

Tinsley recounted the list of supplies he had gathered for the trip down to Numbhollow. It had been three weeks since Ricky was carted into the town, just enough time for his shoulder to heal enough.They were heading out in four hours, 6:00 a.m. on the dot. As of now, Tinsley was perched at the small creaky desk in his bedroom, small candle lighting the paper in front of him.  
...  
_Banjo, if you’re reading this letter, you know by now that I am dead. Don’t mourn for me._

_I picked you to run this town because you are capable, and smart, and I believe you are the perfect young man for the job._

~~_You know I have always loved you like a son_~~  
...

Tinsley scratched his nose, contemplating the scrawl in front of him before crumpling the paper. He placed the pen down on a new sheet, preparing to write, but the words wouldn’t come. The tip of the pen leaked viscous ink, spreading a large black blot over the paper.

He’d been at it for an hour, struggling to get the words out through the rocky terrain of his mind. He had never been a man of many words, never where it counted anyway. Banjo was always much better at sharing his feelings. Banjo deserved to hear them, though, so he straightened up, scrapping the ink stained paper for a fresh piece. He wrote.  
...  
 _Banjo, if you are reading this letter, I am dead. Don’t mourn for me._

_You are the right man to run this town. You are capable, and smart, and trustworthy. I hope you grow to see what I see in you someday._

_I love you, Banjo. I have always loved you from the moment you fell into my life, and I would be proud to call you my son._

_You are the perfect man for this job, and you will be an amazing sheriff. Enclosed in this envelope is my badge. Wear it proudly._

_Tinsley_  
...  
The sheriff picked up the badge, worn and scratched from countless hours in the elements, chipped slightly at the top. He polished it with his shirt before dropping it into the envelope along with the folded letter. He scrawled Banjo’s name into the front before opening the desk drawer with a squeak, plopping it in.

He snuffed out the candle, pinching the flame between two fingers. Getting undressed quickly, he slumped into bed with a yawn, falling asleep swiftly, dreams avoided his consciousness like the plague.

—

Ricky was awoken by a knock at his door. He cracked open his eyes groggily as the sheriff waltzed into the room. He closed his eyes back with a sigh.

“Time to go, Ricky.”

“Fine, _Dios mio_ , let me get dressed.” Tinsley stepped out as Ricky ambled around the room, grabbing his stuff. The sheriff had provided simple clothing for the journey, a gray button up shirt with brown trousers, a blue bandana, and riding chaps. Ricky still had his sombrero and pointed boots from the raid.

After he was dressed, he opened the door, met with a stare from Tinsley. The sheriff looked him up and down, stopping at the bulge of his biceps in the button up. “I’m afraid I might have gotten a size too small. Sorry, I, uhh, didn’t know the correct measurements.”

“Okay,” said Ricky, “It doesn’t matter. I can still move.”

“Good- good…” the sheriff seemed flustered. “Are you ready to go, then?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“Okay then. Oh, I almost forgot, how’s the shoulder?” Tinsley leaned into the question, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hurts.”

“Oh, um, anything I can do?”

“You can start moving so we can get this fucking thing over with.”

Tinsley straightened up, a bit hurt. “Right.” He turned on his heel sharply and continued down the hall, down the stairs, down the road. He stopped by the stables, peering behind him to see Ricky, miffed, holding his arm at a weird angle and rubbing his bicep with a gentle hand. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for your shoulder there, partner? It seems a bit sticky if I do say so myself.”

“Nothing they haven’t already done. Where are the horses?”

Tinsley looked around, confused, before his vision landed on his steed, already brought out of the stable by Banjo. “I thought I’d prep em’ for you, Tinsley!” Banjo lit up as he stepped over to meet them. “You can get goin sooner this way.”

“Thank you, Banjo,” Tinsley smiled one of his rare smiles. “Now you take care of the town while I’m gone! I know you’ll do great, son.”

Banjo hugged Tinsley, hard. The sheriff huffed out a strangled breath, laughing. “Okay, bud. Umm-“ Banjo let out a sniff. “Shoot- there’s no need to cry. You’ll do great.”

“What if you die?” Banjo’s words were quiet, strangled, holding back a sob.

“That’s a possibility,” Tinsley rubbed small circles into Banjo’s shoulder, “but I have to die sometime, son. If the news reaches you that I’ve passed, or if I’m gone for more than a year, look in the desk drawer in my room. I have a note for you.”

Banjo let go slowly, eyes watering as he stepped back. He wiped at his face with a sleeve. “Okay.”

 

Ricky stood back, watching the whole thing. He seemed disinterested, eyeing the pair with sharp eyes. He walked over to the horses. The sheriffs was pale white, with peach splotches covering the expanse of its hide. Two more stood idly by, one sleek and black, and another, brown, packed with supplies.

“When are we off?” Ricky barked over his shoulder.

“Now. Go ahead and hop on Ted, the black one.” Ricky did as he was told, placing his foot securely in the stirrup and arcing his leg over the saddle, settling into the soft leather. Ted stirred under him, rearing his head. Ricky patted his neck.

“No reigns?” Ricky glared confusedly at the sheriff, who was fumbling in his saddle bag.

“Yep. Ted’s trained to follow my horse. No steering required. He pulled a length of rope out of his bag, “That reminds me, hold out your hands.”

Ricky reluctantly presented his arms, palms up. Tinsley quickly tied them tight together.

“Uhh, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ricky glared at Tinsley with fiery eyes.

“Making sure we don’t have any accidents while on the trail. Wouldn’t want anything bad to happen, now would we?” Tinsley knotted the other end of the rope to the saddle, under the horse where Ricky couldn’t reach. Ricky tutted.

“It’s nice to know that you trust me, sheriff.”

“I trust you as far as I can throw you, partner.” He punctuated his sentence with a tight pull of the rope. Ricky was busy trying to combust the sheriffs head with his mind.

Tinsley stepped back with a satisfied huff, pacing over to his own horse before swinging himself up onto her with surprising strength. Ricky hated him, but he could acknowledge that he was well built.

“Ready?” Tinsley called over his shoulder. Ricky nodded. Tinsley turned around, satisfied. He waved goodbye to Banjo, who was still sniffly from the hug. Banjo waved back, giving his trademark sideways smile.

With a sharp giddyup and a kick of the spurs, they were off. Tinsley’s horse trailed in front, while Ricky’s horse and the luggage horse clopped along behind. Ricky had to admit it felt good being in the saddle again, the soft breeze in his face, the sun barely over the horizon. Without the gritty rope around his wrists, this might be halfway enjoyable. Still, he became a bit optimistic for the ride. This might not be so bad after all.


	6. Oh, snap!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get crackly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some violence in this chapter. Blood tw for anyone who needs it. Also unpleasant image descriptions. 
> 
> (For anyone who is confused, a sugan is a cowboy sleeping bag! It’s canvas wrapped around a layer of down and fabric. Nice and comfy for the chilly western nights.)

Tinsley surveyed the land in front of him with guarded eyes. His hat caught the glare of the sun, and shaded his body a bit. Still, it was hot. It was always hot here. 

They had ridden for a handful of hours, a stony silence between them. Ricky laid back on his horse, hat over his eyes. One of the perks of not being able to steer, Tinsley supposed. Suddenly, Ricky spoke for the first time in hours. Tinsley jumped. 

“What’s the deal with this ‘Banjo’ boy, anyway? He’s black, so he’s definitely not your son, besides, you don’t have a wedding band. How’d you two get so close?” 

Tinsley’s eyes grew distant, remembering. “He was six when Woodruff raided his town, Bitterfoot about sixteen years ago. His family was slaughtered. The only reason he lived is because his mother stuffed him into a wardrobe. I rode there to search for survivors along with about ten other men. I found him alone, sobbing quietly into his mother's wedding dress. He was one of three survivors.”

“I was young at the time, twenty two. No family, no friends. I had just moved to the town. On the way home, he latched onto me, hugging me like I was the last human on earth. I couldn’t care for him while I was working, so my neighbors took him in. Needless to say, he stayed close by while I was home, coming to visit every afternoon. We would eat supper together, then I would send him back home when sunset rolled around.”

“Naturally, he took an interest in my job. Asked if he could train under me. I was more than happy to teach him. He started going to work with me, learning. Became a damn good deputy. He’s a good boy, and I’m proud of him. He’s come a long way.”

Ricky stared, unimpressed. “I didn’t think you had the capacity to care, sheriff. All due respect, but you don’t seem like the loving type.” 

Tinsley scoffed. “You just haven’t gotten onto my good side yet. I promise you, I have lots of love to give if you’re willing to work for it.” Tinsley winked over his shoulder at Ricky. The criminal felt his face growing red. He ducked so the brim of his hat shielded Tinsley’s view of him. He silently cursed himself. 

“Might I inquire about your past, Ricky? How’d you get tangled up in crime, hm?” 

“It’s a long story.”

Tinsley gestured to the open plane, “I have all the time in the world.”

“Well, Woodruff‘s wife Lucia found me as a youngin wandering Mexico City during a routine cargo pickup, dirty and starving. All I had were a pair of trousers to my name. She took me back to the base, bathed me, fed me, and gave me a name. Ricardo. Life at Numbhollow is all I’ve known, and it hasn’t been particularly luxurious, but Lucy took care of me. She raised me like I was her own. That’s why I took her maiden name, Goldsworth. 

“I’m damn sorry to hear that, Ricky. You didn’t deserve it.” 

Ricky’s chest swelled, “My parents never cared about me. Lucy is the only mother I’ve ever known, and I’m happy for it. I never-“

“Shush.” Tinsley motioned for Ricky to stop talking with a wave of his hand. 

“What did you say to me?” Ricky raised his voice a bit higher, glaring daggers, angry at the interruption. 

“Shhhhh! I said keep it down... bandits.” Tinsley glared at Ricky desperately. The man shut his mouth, taking the hint. 

Tinsley pulled on the reigns, slowing the horses to a halt. He crooked his head, listening. Suddenly, he whipped out his gun, lightning fast and shot into a thicket to their right. A cry erupted from the bush, and Ricky’s horse reared back, almost bucking him off. A figure leapt from behind their hiding place, shooting several shots past their heads. Ricky jumped off his horse, unable to fight back. He fell onto his ankle, twisting it sharply, bound hands useless to catch himself. Tinsley took three level shots before he hit his target. A cloud of red, then silence. 

Tinsley waited for a few seconds, making sure there weren’t any more thieves hiding out, then he jumped off of his horse, running over to Ricky. “Ricky! Are you hurt?” His eyes showed genuine worry. 

“I’m fine, I just-“ Ricky tried to stand, crying out as he put weight onto his foot. Tinsley rushed to catch him before he crumpled to the ground, arms under his elbows. 

“I got you, Ricky. I got you. What’s the matter? Are you shot?” Tinsley’s words were gentle, and Ricky fought back the steady heat rushing to his face. Tinsley helped him sit down, back resting against his saddle bag. Tinsley fumbled to untie his bound hands. 

“It’s my foot I- I think it’s broken.”

“Okay, let’s see what we have here,” Tinsley quipped as he lifted up Ricky’s leg, propping it up on his knee while he slid off his boot. Ricky gasped as his foot moved, tensing every muscle in his body. “I know, Ricky. I’m almost done, okay?”

The sock was next. Ricky was barely able to hold back a yelp, opting for a small grunt instead. Tinsley furrowed his brows. “What’s wrong with it?” Ricky rasped. 

“Well, it’s starting to swell something fierce, I have to feel around on it, okay?” Ricky nodded, scrunching his eyes in anticipation for the pain. Tinsley took his foot in his hands, gently rolling it around. Ricky sucked in a sharp breath and held it, counting down from ten in his head. “Breathe, Ricky. I’m almost done.” Tinsley felt from his knee down to his shin bone. Ricky couldn’t hold in a short whine when he hit the ankle. 

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” Tinsley spoke softly, brows scrunched up in concern. “Can you move your toes?” Ricky focused on his foot, squinting as he produced a small wiggle. “The good news is, I don’t feel any bones displaced. You most likely just sprained it badly.” 

Ricky blew out a breath, sweat beginning to spring up across his brow. “What are we gonna do?” 

“Well, lucky for you, I packed the makings of a splint and some bandages along with our supplies. You sit tight, and I’ll be back to fix you up, good as new.” Tinsley gave Ricky’s uninjured shoulder a reassuring pat. Ricky smiled up at him, painful, but thankful all the same. Tinsley smiled back before straightening up to gather the supplies. Ricky felt warm in his stomach, something he hadn’t felt for a long time. He watched as Tinsley dug around in their supplies, brows furrowed, eyes focused. Eventually he straightened back up, and turned. Their eyes met, and Ricky looked away quick. 

“Okay Ricky, time to play doctor.” Tinsley crouched back down in front of Ricky, grinning and holding the splint. 

“I’d like to hope you’ve done this before, I- aah!” Ricky was cut short when Tinsley picked up his leg. Tinsley muttered an apology before positioning the splint around his foot.

“Can you hold this in place while I grab the bandage?” Ricky nodded, taking the sticks in his hand. He hissed through his teeth when Tinsley began wrapping it around his foot gently. “You can let go now if you want, Rick.” Tinsley said softly as he wound his way up Ricky’s leg. Ricky let go, and clenched his fists into the dirt. 

Tinsley finished wrapping him up quickly. He tucked the bandage in onto itself, and sat back, admiring his handiwork. “I think I’ll just set up camp here for the night. It’s a little earlier than I had hoped, but you need to get that foot elevated, and I don’t want you to be in too much pain while we ride. Let’s let it rest overnight before we set out again, okay?” Tinsley stood to unpack their supplies, but Ricky’s voice made him falter. 

“Tins?” The sheriff blushed at the nickname. 

“Yeah, Ricky?” 

“Thanks.” Ricky looked earnestly at the sheriff, smiling with his eyes. Tinsley felt it in his hip pocket. 

“Don’t- don’t mention it, partner.” Tinsley walked quickly away, out of sight behind the luggage horse. Ricky closed his eyes, drifting off. 

—

Ricky didn’t know how long he had been asleep before Tinsley was gently shaking him awake. The sun had sunk a considerable amount in the horizon, and Ricky saw their camp fully set up beside a patch of brambles about forty feet away, fire already smoking. 

“Sorry to wake you, but I didn’t want you to get sore lying on the ground like that. I would have set up closer, but the brambles give us a bit more protection against anything fixin’ to hurt us. I can help you walk over there, okay?” Tinsley helped Ricky stand. He placed all of his weight on his right foot as he wobbled up to his full height. Tinsley slung Ricky’s left arm over his shoulder, holding onto his hand with one of his own. He placed his right arm around Ricky’s lower back, wrapping around under his ribs to try and relieve some of the difficulties of standing. Ricky leaned into the closeness of it. 

“Okay, on three we step, Okay?” Tinsley glances over at Ricky, who nodded. “One, two, three.” Ricky sucked in a breath at the first step, squeezing the life out of Tinsley’s hand. Tinsley squeezed back as he began to count again. The second step was worse, and Ricky muffled a groan into his fist. All of his blood was throbbing, throbbing, throbbing into his ankle, and he was half expecting it to explode, throwing viscera onto both of them. One, two, three, Ricky was trembling at this point, breath coming in quick gasps. 

“I can carry you if you want, Ricky.” Tinsley scanned him with a concerned gaze. “You’re shaking.” 

“Thanks for noticing,” Ricky’s voice was also shaky. “It’s okay, my foot is just adjusting to the new angle. I haven’t stood on it since it twisted.”

“If you’re in this much pain, I’m guessing you broke it. The bone might be pinching some nerves.” 

“Well it doesn’t matter now, does it? It’s done and over with, and I just have to walk fifteen more steps until I can collapse again, so let’s get this fucking over with.”

“Okay…” Tinsley looked at him uncertainly, “one, two, three!” It was too much, Ricky’s legs collapsed out from under him, and now Tinsley was the only one holding him up. Tinsley made a surprised sound, almost sinking under the weight. He got his bearings quickly, and lowered Ricky gently to the ground. 

“Shit, holy fuck. Jesus fucking Christ!” Ricky was panting out expletives as his main vocabulary, rocking back and forth while clutching at his foot. “What the fuck did I do to this?” 

“It’s broken, Ricky. I need to carry you. Your foot isn’t going to support your weight no matter how much you curse at it.” Tinsley reached out to pick him up, but Ricky swatted his hands away with a glare. 

“I don’t need you to do this. I can just walk like we were doing before. I’m fine, I’m- haahh- I’m just- hhh.” 

“Look at yourself, Ricky! You’re a damn mess! I’m going to carry you. No arguments.” 

Tinsley crouched, wrapping his arms around the other man. One behind the shoulders, and one behind the knees. Tinsley took a breath, then stood, legs shaking a bit. Ricky reeled at the movement, wrapping his arms tightly around Tinsley’s neck.

Tinsley began to walk to the camp, one foot in front of the other, sweat broke out over his face. “Almost there, Ricky,” Tinsley panted, “Just a bit longer, and holy shit you’re heavy, what the hell.” Ricky giggled a bit. Tinsley was glad he could make him laugh. Three more steps, and they were at the camp. Tinsley lowered Ricky onto his sugan with shaking arms. Ricky relaxed a bit once he was on the ground, letting out a breath that shook in his throat. 

Tinsley rushed to prop it up, setting his saddle bag under it. Tinsley tugged off Ricky’s other shoe, then patted his leg absentmindedly. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything to help the pain?”

“I packed the painkillers Fear gave me. I stashed them in my saddle bag.” Tinsley straightened up, knees popping before he walked over to Ricky’s horse. He rustled around for a bit before returning with an amber bottle. It rattled as Tinsley shook out two large white pills. He let them roll into Ricky’s hand as he offered his canteen. Ricky tossed back the pills, washing them down with a swig of water. He offered the canteen back to Tinsley. 

“Drink some more,” Tinsley pushed it back into his grasp, “you need it.” Ricky grudgingly sipped at the canteen while Tinsley began to start up supper. The savory scent of stew floated through the plane. As he waited for the meal to cook, Tinsley played a soft harmonica, a melancholy tune on his lips. Ricky closed his eyes.


	7. High and Miserable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky gets high, hijinks ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so blood tw for this chapter. Also emetophobia tw. There’s detailed descriptions of pain in here, too. I’ve been in a lot of pain lately, and I’m kind of letting it all out in this fic. You’ll see what I mean. If it’s too intense for you, feel free to skip this chapter!
> 
> I’m just a slut for whump, I really am.

“So what’s your real name anyway?” Ricky was lying flat on his sugan, hands behind his head as Tinsley unwrapped his splint.

“Cecil.” Tinsley finished unraveling the bandage, placing it aside as he gingerly took the splint away from Ricky’s purpled ankle. “Cecil Collins Tinsley. Everyone just calls me Tinsley though, I’m afraid my name is.. quite the mouthful.”

Ricky nodded distractedly, crinkling his brows as Tinsley jostled his foot. “My real name is Ricardo. Lucy is Mexican, wanted to name me something traditional from her heritage. Damn, I can’t wait to see her again.”

Tinsley glanced up at Ricky with soft, tired eyes. “Ricardo… suits you. Are you and Lucy very close?”

“Close as a mother and son could be. Being away from her for this long has been harder than I expected, not that you care.” Ricky winced suddenly as Tinsley felt around on his ankle, whimpering sharply as he hit a tender spot. Tinsley scowled as he rubbed along the bone. Ricky quirked a questioning eyebrow, but Tinsley didn’t notice. Ricky let out another sharp whine as he swiped his fingers over the same spot, cursing.

Tinsley muttered an apology before speaking, “No, I understand, Ricky. I’ve had to leave family as well. My mother was especially hard. She died suddenly. I was just starting to train to be the sheriff in my town. Didn’t get to say goodbye.” He looked away for a second, taking a breath before bringing his gaze back to Ricky’s ankle. “Okay, now that the swelling has gone down a bit, I can feel where you have a bone displaced. I’m going to have to set it. I’ll be right back.” Tinsley got up to leave, but Ricky grabbed him by his sleeve. They locked eyes.

“I’m sorry, Cecil- I really am.” Tinsley sucked in a breath, pausing before letting out a strangled thanks. He left quickly, leaving Ricky to stare at the clouds, missing his mother.

Tinsley came back with another bandage, a bottle of whiskey, and a strap of leather. He handed the whiskey to Ricky, who eagerly unscrewed the cap, drinking several deep swigs. He finally pulled it from his lips, eyes streaming. Tinsley took the bottle from him wordlessly, handing him the strap of leather. Ricky looked at it confusedly.

“That’s for you to bite down on. This is going to hurt.” Tinsley turned back to his ankle, setting the splint and the bandage down by his leg. Ricky placed the leather between his teeth, breathing a bit quickly.

Tinsley picked up his foot, squaring his shoulders and looking pointedly at Ricky. Ricky propped himself up on his elbows. “Are you ready, Ricky?” Ricky nodded. “Okay, one, two,” Tinsley went before three, tugging hard on his foot as he pulled his leg in the other direction. Tinsley heard the bones grind together, and cringed. 

Ricky _shrieked_ , the sound buzzing out from between his lips as the leather muffled his agony. His elbows slipped out from under him. He fell back, dashing his head off of the dirt. He positively writhed, letting several strangled moans past his lips. For a moment, his entire world was keening pain, pain, and pain. He couldn’t breathe.

As he came back to himself, he noticed something rustling his hair. He finally found the strength to crack open his eyes, only to find Tinsley carding his hand lightly through his hair. Tinsley met eyes with him, then pulled his hand back a bit, embarrassed. Ricky leaned his head towards the other man’s hand, and Tinsley smiled a bit.

He began stroking his hair again as Ricky waited for the pain to ease. His jaw still clenched roughly around the leather, and he let out small intermittent whimpers as the pain shot up his leg into his knee.

“I’m sorry, Ricky. I wish I had some ice for it.” Tinsley grimaced at the state of the other man. Ricky grunted in response, letting the leather strap fall gracelessly from his mouth.

“Water?” Ricky croaked, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. Spots floated in his vision, and his eyes rolled back in his head. He began to tremble.

“No, no, lay down, Rick. Your body is most likely going into shock,” Tinsley eased him back down, keeping his hands on the other man a bit longer than needed, “just lay still, and I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Ricky did just that, staring at the early morning sky with glassy eyes as Tinsley came back with water and his own sugan. Tinsley helped him drink, a hand behind his head as he tilted the canteen to the other man’s lips. Ricky drank, a dribble of water running down his chin. Tinsley swiped it away with his thumb as he took the canteen away.

“I’m gonna prop up your legs to help with the shock, okay?” Ricky nodded absently, and yelped suddenly as Tinsley began to lift his legs. Tinsley frowned as he finished getting Ricky comfortable.

Ricky closed his eyes, face buzzing. He felt a hand on his cheek, patting him. “No, Rick, you need to stay awake, okay? Just until the shock passes.” Ricky stared, miffed and a bit confused.

“Talk to me, bud.” Tinsley placed a gentle hand on his good shoulder. “Talk to me about anything.”

“Hurts.” Ricky shivered. “Hurts a _lot_.”

“I know. Let’s talk about something other than that, okay? I’ll get you some of your pain meds while we talk. Would that help?” Ricky nodded, and Tinsley opened up his saddle bag to search for the pills, taking out the soft orange bottle and tapping some capsules into Ricky’s hand. Ricky eagerly swallowed them.

“I miss Lucy. Want to go home.” Ricky was feeling the buzz of the alcohol now, or maybe it was the meds, either way, he felt like he was floating, and everything became impossibly fake, like he was an actor in a play. His eyes met Tinsley’s, and he smiled, blushing. “You know, you look pretty good for a sheriff,” Ricky giggled, “I haven’t seen many pretty sheriffs around, but you take the cake. I love a man in uniform.” Ricky moved his hand up to Tinsley’s thigh, rubbing it absentmindedly.

Tinsley blushed hard, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing.“Those pain meds are really getting to you, huh? Maybe I shouldn’t have mixed them with the alcohol.”

Ricky shook his head, “No, I’m just saying you’re cute. And everything is spinning. And I really want to go to sleep now. Please?” He let his eyes slip closed.

Tinsley patted his face again, a bit harder this time. Ricky made a small noise of protest, moving his head. Tinsley slapped him a little harder. “Ricky, you _need_ to stay awake for me. Keep talking.”

Ricky grumbled. “This isn’t fun. I don’t like this. I don’t like you.” Tinsley frowned a bit. “Sorry,” Ricky smiled up at him, “didn’t mean it.” Tinsley laughed, and stroked the other man’s hair.

“Hey, Ricky, tell me more about the place we’re going to. What’s it like?”

“Well it’s called ‘La Madriguera,’ ‘The Burrow.’ The people there can be hard to handle, but as long as you keep your distance and don’t get into anyone’s business, you’ll be just fine. Pretty boys like you do even better there.” Ricky gave Tinsley a wink, causing the other man to go scarlet.

“I have a feeling that you’re flirting with me, Ricky. Can’t say it’s unpleasant.”

Ricky shook his head. “I’m just telling the truth,” he giggled again, he was doing that a lot. “You’re a handsome man. I’ve hooked up with guys that looked worse.”

Tinsley chuckled. “Well, Ricky, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. You might regret it once you come down from those drugs.”

“I promise you, I won’t regret a thing.” Ricky sat, swaying a bit, and used Tinsley’s thigh as leverage. His hand snuck up and in, brushing his inner thigh, grabbing him between his legs. Tinsley let out a noise.

Ricky sat up fully, hand still between the other man’s legs. He leaned in close, mouth brushing Tinsley’s ear. “And I can tell you want me, too. I can feel how positively _hard_ you are.” He pulled away, mouth trailing across Tinsley’s cheek until their lips were just gracing each other’s. Then, Ricky kissed him hard. Their teeth clacked together, and Tinsley made a muffled grunt. He felt their beards scratch, and he shuddered. The sheriff put his hands firmly on the other man’s shoulders, pusing him away. Ricky whined.

Tinsley wiped the spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand. “I said not now, Ricky. I’m not opposed to it if you still want to do this when you’re sober, but not now, okay?”

Ricky sat back, looking betrayed. “ _Fuck you_.” He laid back down, head turned away from the sheriff. Tinsley heard him snoring within seconds.

Tinsley tucked him into his sugan, and brushed Ricky’s hair out of his face before he walked back, somewhat stiffly, to his horse. He sat down, back facing away from Ricky, and he tried to distract himself. He leaned back against his saddle bag, and squirmed. He was indeed very hard from Ricky’s touch, but he didn’t want to pursue it. His resolve lasted for all but twenty seconds before he thought _fuck it_ , and slipped his hand into his underwear, trying to work out all thoughts of Ricardo Goldsworth.

—

Ricky slept for seven hours before he woke up again, grumpy and in severe pain. Tinsley was alerted to his consciousness by an aching cry. He was next to Ricky like a shot.

The man was sweating, eyes scrunched in agony. “ _Hurts_.”

“I know Ricky, but I can’t give you more medicine yet. You’re going to have to wait it out.”

“How long has it been?”

“You have three hours until I can give you more.”

Ricky did something that Tinsley had never seen him do before, he scrunched up his eyes, shoulders shaking as he tried not to cry. “Hurts a lot. So much. _Please_.”

Tinsley didn’t know what he was asking for, but he knew what it felt like to be in this much pain. He swiped a tear from Ricky’s cheek, and the other man began to full-on sob.

“You’re not supposed to be nice to me, you know. You shouldn’t.” Ricky was still loopy from the meds and the pain, Tinsley knew, but his heart broke nonetheless.

“Why wouldn’t I, Ricky?”

“I’m not-“ he hiccoughed, “someone who- who deserves it.” He paused, taking in a shaking breath, “Did I… kiss you?” His eyes were full of confusion.

“Yes, you did.”

Ricky turned scarlet, “Oh, no, I’m- I’m sorry. Did you- was it- did you um, like it?”

“It wasn’t unpleasant, but sloppy. You were extremely intoxicated. Maybe we can do it again when you’re not high and miserable.” Tinsley left out the part about the touching, how much he liked it. 

Ricky nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’d like that.” He closed his eyes, resting his head in Tinsley’s lap as the sheriff stroked his hair. “Shit,” he scrunched his eyes again, taking sharp hold of Tinsley’s hand as a wave of pain washed over him, “fucking Christ, _FUCK_.” Tinsley looked at him, concerned, hand still stroking his hair somewhat distractedly, the other was being crushed by Ricky’s grasp.

“What is it, sugar?” Tinsley used the pet name distractedly, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I- I don’t _know_ ,” Ricky let out a whimper, or a moan, a strangled sound that made Tinsley’s stomach clench up. “It just hurts, it really, _fuck_ , fucking shit, _it’s bad_.” All Ricky seemed to be able to do was squirm, squirm, and squeeze Tinsley’s hand until he swore one of his fingers snapped.

Tinsley frowned, taking his hand from the other man’s hair. Ricky was too distracted to notice. His back arched off the ground as he hissed through his teeth. Tinsley tried to unwrap the splint with one hand, but it proved too difficult to do without causing more pain. “Hey, Ricky, can I have my hand for a moment? Ricky?”

The other man wasn’t responding. His teeth were clenched so tightly that a vein was popping out of the side of his head. Tinsley had to pry his hand from Ricky’s grasp, Ricky just whimpered, breathless, and clawed at the dirt.

Tinsley unwrapped the bandage slowly, trying to ignore Ricky’s moans as best he could. As he got down to the last layers, he saw an angry red soaked through. His stomach dropped.

He pulled the bandage off quickly, staring shocked at the foot underneath. It had swelled considerably during his sleep, and the splint was cutting deep into his leg, leaving drips of hot blood to pour down the sides.Tinsley took in a sharp gasp as he realized this was his fault. He had tied the bandages too tight.

“Ricky, baby…” Ricky looked up. He had gained a bit of relief from the removal of his bandages, but he was still sweating considerably, and incredibly pale. “I’m- so sorry.”

Tinsley took the bottle of whiskey, pouring it over the splint, trying to fix things the best he could. Ricky inhaled sharply through his teeth. Tinsley peeled off the rest of the contraption, and Ricky screamed from deep in his chest, strangled. The splint made a wet ripping sound as it peeled away from his skin. New flows of blood ran hot and steady down his leg, not unlike the flows of tears running down his face.

Tinsley took his roll of bandages, sloshing the whiskey quickly onto his leg before wrapping it up securely. Ricky was hyperventilating. Tinsley tried to calm him down, to do something, but Ricky was inconsolable. Suddenly, Ricky gagged hard. Tinsley helped him sit up as quickly as he could before he retched hot bile onto the dirt beside him. He gagged roughly several times, trying to heave up his stomach. He didn’t have anything to throw up, so he just gagged, and gagged, and gagged, reeling.

Ricky finally seemed to calm down a bit, and laid back, resting his back on the other man’s chest as he tried to come back to himself. Tinsley just rubbed his hand up and down Ricky’s arm, up and down, up and down.

“I’m sorry.” Tinsley was teary eyed as he watched Ricky’s heaving chest. “I’m so fucking sorry, Ricky.”

“S’okay,” Tinsley jumped as he heard the other man speak, “it was an accident, Ceece. You didn’t know.” His words were slurred, pulled out of his mouth over patches of gravel, but sweet nonetheless. Tinsley let out a sob before stuffing his fist into his mouth. He hadn’t slept properly in days, and this small kindness had pushed him over the edge.

Ricky grasped his hand, gently this time, rubbing a thumb over his gnarled knuckles. Tinsley smiled, and kissed the top of his head.

“Mm,” Ricky whispered, “like that.”

Tinsley blushed, and kissed him again, whispering “Go to sleep, Ricky. You’ll feel better when you wake up, I promise.”

Ricky did just that, relaxing back into him. The pressure on his ankle was gone, and the pain wasn’t nearly as bad as before. Tinsley heard him snoring softly within minutes.

Tinsley tried to stay awake, he really did, but the weight of the other man, and the soft sounds of his slumber pulled him into unconsciousness as well.


	8. Scratch My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood tw again, because of course there is. Also there are descriptions of gun violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been real sick lately, writing in the middle of the night while I can’t sleep. I only skimmed the chapter once, so it is by no means my best work. It’s real whumpy in these first chapters, but rest assured, it gets better once they arrive at the base. If whump isn’t your thing, hang in there, cause it simmers down.

It had been a week and a half since Ricky broke his ankle. This morning, Tinsley watched the other man hobble gingerly to his horse on the makeshift crutch that Tinsley had foraged from an unlucky tree.

Ricky was doing better. That was clear by the eager look he gave the sheriff as he helped him mount his horse, tucking the crutch under the saddle for easy access. Tinsley could tell he wanted to go home, back to the criminal base he had lived all his life.

During the sharp, painful nights after his ankle was set, Ricky told Tinsley stories about his home. It was carved into the side of a plateau, hard to spot unless you knew exactly where to look. Tinsley couldn’t deny that these people were clever. They were clever but dangerous all the same. Tinsley felt his gut twist as he thought of the mission to come.

“Hey, Tinsley, are you ready to go?” Ricky was leaning down to Tinsley’s height from on top of his horse, he placed a gentle hand on the side of the sheriff’s face.

Tinsley shook his head like a dog with a bad case of fleas, “Yeah, yeah, uhh, let’s go. Okay.” He began walking to his horse, the morning sun beating down onto his head. He looked back, meeting Ricky’s confused gaze. He smiled, hoping to cover any of his apprehension.

As they rode, Ricky began to look pale, slick with sweat. Tinsley saw him sop it up with his handkerchief several times.

“Ricky, are you doing okay? Do you need us to stop?”

“No, I’m just fine.” Ricky seemed closed off to the question. His body shrunk in on itself.

“I’m stopping to look at your ankle.” Tinsley pulled at the reins decisively, pulling his horse to a gentle stop.

Ricky scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Tinsley, I’m fine. Look, I just didn’t sleep very well last night. There’s really no issue-“ Ricky was cut short by a sharp tug on his arm. Tinsley met his eyes, demanding. Ricky sighed heavily, and slipped off his horse. He wobbled a bit, trying not to put pressure on his ankle. Tinsey took hold of his elbow, helping him lower himself to the ground.

“Okay, tell me what’s actually bothering you.” Tinsley looked boredly at Ricky, unwrapping his ankle. Ricky scrunched up his left eye, as the rough fabric slid off his foot.

“Nothing, really.” Ricky was insistent. Tinsley didn’t believe one bit of it.

“Well, your cuts seem a bit red. You’re getting a bit of an infection down here. Nothing some salve can’t fix. Luckily, I packed some.” Tinsley walked slowly to the supply horse, rooting around in the saddle bag a bit before coming up with a jar. He walked back to Ricky, rubbing the jar gently with a calloused finger. Ricky looked up at him with hooded eyes.

“Okay, Rick. This will help.”

“I should hope so, partner.” Ricky rolled his eyes as the sheriff got onto his knees, unscrewing the jar and slopping a large sum of the stuff into Ricky’s foot.

Ricky hissed through his teeth, jerking back a bit. “Goddamnit- warn me next time.”

“M’sorry, Ricky. This stuff stings.” Tinsley peered steadily down at Ricky’s ankle, wrapping a fresh roll of bandages tightly over his leg. When he was done, he looked up, meeting Ricky’s stare. Ricky looked quickly away, brows furrowing. Tinsley offered a hand to help him back up, and Ricky took it unsteadily. He rolled his neck as he straightened, giving his good shoulder a stiff shrug.

“Let me get you some painkillers,” Tinsley nodded as he spoke, “wait here.”

Ricky shook his head. “I don’t need them, Tinsley. I’m just fine, thank you.” Tinsley noted the other man’s breath as he spoke. He sucked in his air like he just took a jog.

Eventually, Tinsley decided that Ricky was a free man. He would refuse the painkillers until his face turned blue, and then some. He shrugged, languid as he helped Ricky back onto his horse.

—

The sun was hovering close to the horizon when they decided to set up camp. Ricky started the fire, sitting distractedly by the pile of sticks that Tinsley had gathered. He clicked the flint and steel together a couple of times, staring off into space. His thoughts wandered, back to the train heist, the sharp pop of the gun, almost as loud and piercing as the pain in his shoulder. He didn’t feel it at first, but he could tell something was wrong. He couldn’t move his shooting arm. The men closed in on him, knocking him to the ground before giving his face a sharp kick. One man pinned him down with a boot to his chest as another bound his hands. They picked him up sharply. He panicked, looking frantically back to his team. They were gone. His body grew cold, and then hot. He could feel his blood buzzing violently in his skin, and suddenly-

“Ricky?”

Ricky yelped, scrabbling away from the sound. He sat, panting and stared at the sheriff with wide eyes.

Tinsley raised his hands in front of him, a comforting gesture, a gesture that said ‘I’m not here to hurt you.’ Ricky relaxed a bit, shoulders slowly sinking from his ears.

“Ricky, you’re shaking.” Tinsley slowly moved to sit by the other man, “tell me what’s wrong.”

Ricky pursed his lips, looking at the ground for a second. He made an absent noise in the bottom of his throat. “Nothing, Ceece, you just startled me.” He was scratching his arm now, raking his nails up and down, up and down the length of his arm. They left raised white trails as they went.

Tinsley placed a steady hand over the restless arm, squeezing gently. “Anything else you want to say?”

Ricky scowled. He looked away, then up, then away again, battling his turbulent mind. “It’s nothing. I’m okay. I was just remembering when-“ he stopped to take a steadying breath. It shook tremulously in his chest, “I had a bit of a flashback, I guess. To the train heist. When my friends left me.”

Tinsley crinkled his brows a bit, but he didn’t speak. He left an open silence in his midst, where Ricky wanted anything but. It was infuriatingly simple. It was agony.

“I’m- okay. Really, I am. I was just remembering, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” Tinsley finally spoke, a deep whisper.

“That’s all.” Ricky nodded absently, he wasn’t here. His eyes gave it away. He was far, far away from this moment.

Tinsley squeezed his hand uncertainly, withdrawing it from the other man’s arm. He took the flint and steel from Ricky’s loose grip. The sheriff started the fire quickly as Ricky stared into him, no, the space in front of him, like there was an object hanging there that only Ricky had the eyes for. He looked tired, or empty, devoid of the thing that makes someone human.

As Tinsley moved to make some supper, Ricky snapped out of it. A flush ran to his stubbled cheeks, and he mopped his face with his bandana. The life snapped back into him as well, and he was Ricky again.

“Hey, Tinsley? I need to go take a piss. I’ll be back, okay?”

Tinsley looked up, a bit concerned, but happy Ricky was back to normal. “Just… don’t go too far, okay? Suppers ready in half an hour.”

Ricky nodded, grabbing his crutch and hobbling out into the desert. He made sure he walked behind a hill, out of sight from Tinsley. He didn’t know what prompted the urge, but he kept walking, and walking, and walking. Barely in earshot of the sheriff.

He unbuttoned his shirt. It stuck to his belly in odd areas, soaked through with sweat. He peeled up the fabric, letting it drop to the ground. He stood for a few seconds, shivering at the cool breeze of the desert night. A hand inched up to his shoulder, palming the bandage over his gunshot wound. A hiss escaped from his lips, and he steeled himself to pull up the bandage. He unwrapped it, and viewed the sight underneath. A sound behind him, and he quickly wrapped his shoulder back up.

“Tinsley, I-“ he didn’t get to finish his sentence. It wasn’t Tinsley.

—

The sheriff sat, staring into the flames flickering before him. The smell of rich meat flooded his senses. The aroma didn’t do much. Tinsley had found that food just wasn’t appealing to him anymore. He thought about his home, his town, but his thoughts fell mostly on Ricky. He liked the man, there was no ignoring. He wanted to be with him, to touch him. Tinsley wondered if he even remembered the delirious kiss they had shared. If so, he hadn’t commented on it. The man sighed, a resigned sound, but he didn’t get to wallow in his emotional misery for long.

Tinsley craned his neck at a sound, shrouded deep in the night. A faint blip in the common ambiance of the desert. He listened intently. Suddenly, his name, shouted, frantic. He was up like a shot, barely taking time to grab his revolver before he sprinted into the night.

He came across the source of the noise a large distance away from the camp. A pitch black blob slunked through the darkness, a viscous patch of oil against the night. Suddenly, Tinsley noticed the figure of Ricky, using his crutch to beat at the mountain lion violently. It wasn’t working. The feline grew closer, hungry.

Tinsley placed a sweaty hand on his revolver, he couldn’t shoot the cat without possibly hitting Ricky as well. He couldn’t do that to him. He had to get in between the two before he could do anything. He sprinted forward, aiming his revolver into the air and shooting a warning shot. The cat jumped, but Ricky jumped higher. The sheriff could hear his stuttering breaths from where he stood.

The mountain lion circled onto Tinsley, and Tinsley looped around to stay in between Ricky and it. Ricky clutched at the other man’s shoulder, frantic. The lion stood, staring. Tinsley watched as he aimed his pistol. He had to make sure he hit it in the right spot, or else it would most likely lunge onto them.

Movement. The lion pounced, and Tinsley aimed his gun. It’s claws met his arm, raking deep sopping cuts down his forearm. He yelped, and shot his gun. He could feel blood splattered on his face, hot and damp. It was dead. Tinsley gripped his arm with a clawed hand. He felt the blood pouring quickly from the wound. He was afraid it had hit a vein, or an artery.

He left, letting Ricky hobble back to the camp on his own accord. He took off his bandana, clamping it over his arm with shaky hands. He sat there for a few seconds, catching his breath. He heard Ricky stepping into the campsite, using his crutch. Ricky sat by him, shaking.

“Tinsley- are you-“

“Shut up… just- quiet.” Tinsley tied the bandana tight over his arm, using his teeth. The blood was already dripping fast from under the fabric. He scooted over to his saddle bag, not bothering to get up. He pulled out a long bandage, some gauze, and his half empty bottle of whiskey. Half empty, half full, Tinsley didn’t care as long as whiskey was in his glass instead of water.

Untying the bandana, he picked up the bottle of whiskey, uncapping it with his teeth before pouring a sum onto his arm. He made a strangled noise, not loud, but bursting with pain nonetheless. He bit the inside of his cheek before picking up the gauze, and stuffing it deep into each scratch. He forgot to breathe through the pain, and soon, he was lightheaded. Pools of static flooded his vision, and he found himself on his back, staring up at Ricky who was tying the bandage tight and sure around his forearm. He sighed, but didn’t get up.

“Ricky, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Ricky just shrugged, defeated.


	9. Punch, Slap, Kiss.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess what! More of this shit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a shot every time Tinsley says “okay” in this.

The fire crackled softly next to them. Tinsley sat, stony in his silence across from Ricky. The sheriff stared into the flames, poking at them languidly with a stick. The bandages on his arm were stained a deep red, still bleeding. 

 

“Oh come on, Tinsley, you can’t be that pissed about this.” Ricky crossed his arms in a pout. “Honest mistake, really.” 

 

“You could’ve been killed, Ricky.” Tinsley rested unimpressed eyes on the other man. “What you did was really fucking dangerous, and the only reason you made it out is because I came to save your ass.” 

 

Ricky stood, using his crutch as leverage. He hobbled around the fire to stand in front of Tinsley. “You could’ve Just left me to die, you know. At least then I’d be out of your hair.” 

 

Tinsley shook his head, throwing his eyes up to the sky before looking Ricky in the face. “I wouldn’t do that, Ricky. You know damn well.”

 

“And why not?” Ricky raised his voice, nose scrunching up into a glare, “This is your fault, you know. If you hadn’t tied my hands, my ankle wouldn’t have snapped, and I would be able to defend myself!” 

 

Tinsley scoffed. “How the fuck was I supposed to know you’d fall off?” 

 

“You could have just trusted me in the first place! I’m not some monster you need to keep locked up at all times.” 

 

“Ricky, you kill people for a living!”

 

“So why didn’t you let me die, then? You could have easily left me to be eaten.”

 

Tinsley was standing now, inches from the other man, eyes practically glowing red. “I care, you entitled asshole! I fucking care about you! But I wouldn’t expect your oblivious ass  to catch on. You’re really fucking selfish, you know that?”

 

Tinsley’s head shot to the side as Ricky’s fist connected with his face. He stumbled, head reeling. He placed a hand on his jaw while he scrambled to get his bearings. It came back red. Ricky smirked at the man’s split cheekbone, shaking out his hand. 

 

“You fucking-“ Tinsley didn’t finish his sentence before he was on the other man. His fist connected sharply with his nose, a crack, and a sharp yelp trailing behind. Ricky flipped the both of them roughly, straddling the sheriff’s hips and slapping him senselessly with an open palm. Tinsley caught his hands, and they locked eyes, still, silent. They stared at each other for several tension hardened moments. Lightning crackled between their eyes. 

 

Suddenly, they were on each other, mouths working together sloppily, tasting copper as the blood from Ricky’s nose seeped in. Ricky let out a whine, all of his tension melting away as Tinsley ran his hand up through his hair, bucking his hips slightly. Ricky ground himself down onto Tinsley in response. The sheriff moaned, rough and loud. Tinsley felt Ricky’s neck, burning impossibly hot against the chill of the desert night he ran his hand roughly through his hair, taking a large fistful and yanking hard. Ricky grabbed him through his pants, and Tinsley jumped. He placed his knee between the sheriff’s legs, straddling one of his thighs as he worked to unbutton his shirt with trembling hands. He ripped open Tinsley’s shirt, and blood dripped freely from his nose onto his bare chest. Tinsley shivered at the feeling, Ricky shivered in response. 

 

Ricky bent down, kissing up Tinsley’s chest and onto his neck, leaving a smeared trail of blood. He worked him up fast, hand palming him between his legs as his mouth worked magic on his neck. Tinsley grabbed his ass unashamedly, pulling him close. He moved his hands roughly up to Ricky’s shoulders, ignoring the sharp gasp the other man let out, and flipped them. He worked slowly, carefully slipping each button apart on the other man’s shirt. Ricky panted each short breath through clenched teeth. He felt Ricky squirm under him, an almost sickly sheen of sweat slicked his face. Finally, the sheriff pulled open his shirt, and his hands ran roughly over his body, kissing him hard. 

 

“Tinsley wait, I- Tinsley! AGHH STOP-  _ nghh! _ ” Tinsley was off of him like a shot, panting as he looked at Ricky with confused eyes. Ricky let out a groan, face contorted into a painful scowl as his breath came short and quick. He squirmed in the dirt. 

 

“Ricky, I- did I hurt you? What’s the matter?” Tinsley placed a comforting hand on Ricky’s belly, scanning his body for injuries. Ricky was starting to come back to himself, breathing quick short breaths as he tried to grasp consciousness. 

 

“No, it’s fine, just, my shoulder… it’s-“ Tinsley glanced at the gunshot wound on the other man, it was still covered in a light bandage. Tinsley could see a sickly damp spot seeping through, red streaks gracing his skin, running down his chest. He noticed Ricky shaking under him, not from their previous endeavor, but from chills. 

 

“Ricky, baby…” Ricky perked at the endearment, quirking a brow. He didn’t have long to process the words as Tinsley slowly peeled up the bandage, a wet sopping sound squelched through the air. 

 

“You don’t have to- ahhhh AH stop! Stop, it’s fine! I- shit,  _ fuck,  _ fucking stop!” Tinsley sucked in a breath at the sight, the wound was swollen, leaking. His skin was a furious red. Ricky’s body was wracked with an onslaught of chills. 

 

“Ricky, you’re burning up.” Tinsley sat back, looking hurt. He looked away. 

 

“Tinsley what-“ 

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was sincere, saddened. “Ricky, this is bad. What- what can I...I don’t have anything to help!” 

 

“Listen, The Burrow is only a day away. When I get there, Lucy will send for someone to take care of this, okay? I didn’t… want you to have to take care of me again. To see me like that.” He shook violently, and Tinsley quickly buttoned up the other man’s shirt. As he stood to grab Ricky’s bedding, Ricky made a noise. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Nothing, it’s just, can’t we finish what we started back there?” Ricky gestured to Tinsley’s pants. “I feel bad. Got you worked up for nothing.” 

 

Tinsley turned crimson, rubbing the back of his neck, “Ricky, I can take care of it myself. We can do this another time, yeah?” Ricky shrugged his good shoulder, and Tinsley turned, quickly dragging Ricky’s sugan over to where he was sitting, and helping him into it. Ricky shivered, Tinsley frowned. “Is there anything I can get you? Water? Soup?” Ricky shook his head, snuggling down deeper into his bedding. He looked drowsy. 

 

Tinsley scratched the back of his neck, feeling a bit useless. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be back. Won’t take long.” Tinsley glanced at Ricky with a wink, turning to walk behind the rocky outcropping twenty paces away. He settled behind the rocks, quickly unbuckling his belt and slipping his pants down. He sighed as he was once again defeated by Ricky Goldsworth. He got to work. 

 

—

 

Ricky couldn’t help but turn red. He decided to slouch deep into the fabric enveloped around him, and drifted off despite the intermittent shivers wracking his body. 

 

—

 

_ He was cold, cold, cold as he limped through the desert. How did he get here? Where even was here? He hugged himself tightly, thin shirt barely enough to keep him from freezing.  _

 

_ Where’s Tinsley?  _

 

_ He heard a sharp sound from behind him, a cacophonous commotion of hooves and shouts. He spun around, taking in the sight of Woodruff and a gang of his bandits. They circled Tinsley on their horses, closing in. Ricky tried to scream, to run over to him, but his leg collapsed out from under him. His ankle shot a sharp, keening pain through his body. _

 

_ His shoulder was suddenly pierced through by an arrow from one of Woodruff‘s men. He shrieked, grasping at it with panicked hands. Tears streamed down his face, leaving tracks.  _

 

_ He pulled himself up onto his elbows, distraught as he watched Tinsley scrabble to escape, to find some way to fight back. He was no match against the bandits, and Woodruff finally caught him by his shirt collar, pulling him up to sneer in his face. Ricky screamed as he watched Woodruff raise a pistol, Tinsley yelled for Ricky to help, to save him. Ricky tried to pull himself up, but his shaking body wouldn’t allow it. His shoulder was bubbling with pain, skin warping and boiling.  _

 

_ The ground rolled under him as he tried to gather his bearings. He looked up, to see Tinsley distraught, pistol steadily aimed towards his head. There was a sharp pop, and Ricky shrieked at the sight. Tinsley’s head was no more. Ricky retched, or at least tried to, but nothing came up. The sight of Tinsley, bleeding, broken flooded his vision. Woodruff dropped the sheriff cruelly on the ground, like a piece of garbage, trampling the body under his horse. Ricky screamed, Ricky screamed, Ricky screamed.  _

_ … _

 

Ricky awoke with a shout, Tinsley’s name on his lips. He tried to sit up, to run from Woodruff. He saw a figure looming over him, then the pain set in. Tears streamed down his face as he clutched his shoulder with a clawed hand. A strangled moan escaped his lips. 

 

The figure rushed to lay him back down, cooing comforting sounds. 

 

“I’m here, Ricky, I’m right here. You were dreaming. I’m here to take care of you.” Tinsley’s words drifted over him, and he relaxed back down. He blinked the tears out of his eyes, and looked up to see Tinsley’s face close. His head was in the other man’s lap, and Tinsley placed a cool cloth over his cheeks, wiping his tears away before resting it on his head. 

 

“Tins-“ Ricky reached up with his good arm, grabbing a rough fistful of the sheriff’s shirt, grasping it like it was a lifeline. Tinsley placed his hand over Ricky’s, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. 

 

“I’m here, Ricky. Your fever is spiking, so I’m trying to get it to lower. Can you sit up for me? Just for a second?” Ricky groggily hoisted himself up, swaying as his head spun. Tinsley placed a steadying hand behind his back, the other working to unbutton his shirt. The sheriff gently tugged off the shirt, leaving Ricky shivering like a leaf. Ricky made a noise, grasping at his shirt as it was pulled away. 

 

“Cold.”

 

“I know, Ricky, but I need your fever to go down, okay? It’s getting… a lot worse.” 

 

Ricky laid back down wearily into Tinsley’s lap. The sheriff ran a hand through his hair. He peered at the sky, scanning his eyes across the blurry moon. He saw double. “What time?”

 

“You slept for about four hours. It’s around 2:00 a.m. now.” 

 

Ricky’s stomach rolled suddenly, he tried to swallow, but his dry throat didn’t seem to move right. He squirmed in Tinsley’s lap, making a soft grunt. He tried to sit up, but he was shaking too hard to do much of anything. 

 

“Ricky? What’s-“ Ricky gagged, a rough sound from deep in his stomach. “Oh-  _ oh okay,  _ okay bud-“ Tinsley’s quickly helped Ricky onto his side just in time for him to retch strings of hot bile into the dirt. “Alright, sugar. You’re okay, just-“ he paused as Ricky began another round of vomiting, rubbing comforting circles onto his back as he convulsed. Ricky laid back down into Tinsley’s lap, shivering, sweating, tears streaming down his face. He looked completely and utterly miserable. Tinsley’s heart broke. 

 

“Okay, sugar.” Tinsley wetted his bandana again using his canteen, then swiped the damp cloth across Ricky’s face. Ricky leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. “Okay, just try to relax, alright? Deep breaths.” Tinsley began to breathe deep and slow, carding a hand through Ricky’s damp hair. “Just like that, yeah. You can sleep now, I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 

Ricky sighed, still shivering violently. His shoulder throbbed daggers through his chest and arm, and he grit his teeth against the pain. He made small intermittent whimpers, and Tinsley made small intermittent sounds of comfort. 

 

He tossed and turned most of the night, Tinsley leaned over him concernedly. Ricky would wake up to vomit, then drift shiveringly off to a tormented sleep. This happened too many times to count, and when the sun came up, Tinsley was minutes away from collapse. The sheriff somehow managed to pack up camp, helping a woozy Ricky onto his horse, sitting in front of him so he could use the sheriff as support. 

 

Tinsley was off, Ricky leaned heavily on his back, providing a warm comfort. The sheriff slipped into a light sleep many times, but he never got more than thirty seconds. They stopped regularly to let Ricky vomit, Tinsley lightly wiping a bandana over his face before setting off again. They made it to The Burrow around five o’clock, and Tinsley barely made it to the entrance, laying Ricky forward in the horse before knocking sharply. He collapsed in the dirt before it was opened. 

 


	10. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley wakes up. Wholesomeness ensues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to add some wholesomeness to this chapter. Don’t worry, it won’t last!

Suddenly, light. Lots of things begin this way. For Tinsley, this was how his time at The Burrow began. He cracked open his eyes, slowly, painfully, a bit grumpily. Golden specs of dust floated lightly in the sharp beams of sun slipping through the curtains. He squinted. He didn’t have curtains. 

 

Suddenly, his memory flooded back into his fogged-up mind, brief flickering flashes of the past couple of weeks.  _ Ricky.  _

 

He sat up, wincing as he jostled the gouges in his arm. The Burrow. That’s where he was. It didn’t seem any more hostile than a hotel room. There was flowered wallpaper coating the walls, impeccable. A dresser, topped with an oil lamp and a few picture frames was pushed against the far wall. There was a glass of water on the bedside table, and the whole room was tied together by a homely rug in the center of the floor. 

 

He eyed the door, wondering if he should risk taking a look around. His question was answered for him when the door squeaked open. He sat back onto his elbows, watching with guarded eyes. A silent head peeked in, and their gazes met. 

 

“Ricky!” Tinsley was out of the bed in seconds. Ricky opened the door all the way, limping over to him. They met halfway in a tight hug. 

 

“You’re okay?” Tinsley held him at arm's length, looking him up and down. Ricky was shirtless, a clean white bandage was wrapped neatly around his shoulder, all the way down to his chest. His arm was in a sling. He noted his ankle, also wrapped in a tight bandage. A large splint jutted from it. He looked professionally cared for. 

 

“I’m okay, Ceece. Really.” Ricky placed his good hand hand on the side of Tinsley’s face, pulling him into a soft kiss. Tinsley kept his head ducked in place, even after Ricky pulled away. 

 

“You feel warm.” 

 

“I’m still a bit feverish, but Lucy has been taking good care of me. You need to come see her! Let’s-“ 

 

“Wait, how long have we been here?” 

 

“You’ve been sleeping for three days. Lucy said you woke up a couple of times when she checked on you, but you weren’t exactly coherent.” 

 

Tinsley turned red. “God, she saw me like that?”

 

“You’re fine, Ceece.” Ricky giggled, taking hold of one of his hands. “You’ll love her.”

 

Tinsley went quiet, glancing at their intertwined hands. “And is she okay with…” he left the question hanging, lifting up their hands.  _ With us? _

 

Ricky burst out laughing, sinking his head into Tinsley’s chest. He stayed like that for a while, Tinsley’s hand hovered over his back uncertainly. Ricky took a few shuddery breaths, small chuckles trailing on the end. He straightened up, wiping his eye with a knuckle, sighing. 

 

“Let’s get you washed up, maybe a shave. It’s not exactly a first impression, but it’s your first coherent impression. Let’s go. I have-“

 

“You didn’t answer my question, Ricky.” Tinsley donned an uncertain smile, oblivious. 

 

“You’ll see when you meet her.” Ricky ruffled Tinsley’s hair, grimacing at the oil built up in the knotted strands. “Come on, let’s get you into a bath.”

 

—

 

Tinsley stayed in the bath for two hours. He sat, mostly. Thoughts came and went occasionally. Sometimes, he picked at the heavy scabs forming over his arm. A very minuscule amount of time was spent doing any actual washing, but he was willing to excuse himself under the circumstances. Eventually, he was left soggy and shivering in a lukewarm puddle, running his finger through the condensation built up on the wall of the tub. 

 

He exited the washroom in a bit of a stupor, wrapped up from the waist down in a particularly fluffy towel. He found a very impatient Ricky waiting for him in his room, halfheartedly flipping through a worn paperback. 

 

Ricky looked up at the footsteps, sighing a bit dramatically as he dropped the book back onto the bed. “Finally, Tins. I thought you got stuck in there or something.”

 

“Just enjoying some time without annoying bandits breathing down my neck, or getting injured every five seconds… needing me to swoop in and  _ save them  _ like a knight in shining armor.” 

 

“You liked taking care of me.” Ricky drew closer, placing a hand flat on Tinsley’s abdomen, fingers splayed. Tinsley let out an unsteady breath. He bent down to kiss him, but was stopped by a single finger on his lips. He opened his eyes a bit grumpily to an uncaring Ricky. 

 

“Not so fast,  _ Vaquero,”  _ Ricky trailed his finger down the other man’s lips, stopping at his chest. “We can do that  _ after _ you meet my mamá.” He turned, giving Tinsley a look over his shoulder that said  _ follow me _ . Tinsley complied, rolling his eyes as he felt his face redden. They sat side by side on the twin bed, Tinsley wrapped his arms around himself in a hug. 

 

“Now, I threw out your old clothes. Sent for them to be burned, to be more precise,” Ricky spoke as he unfolded the pile of clothes on the bed. “They smelled like your horse… worse, actually.” 

 

Tinsley scoffed. “What else would you expect Ricky?”

 

Ricky ignored him. He picked up a neat white shirt with minimal embroidery, holding it up to Tinsley’s chest. “Throw that on, will you? I also sent for the longest pair of trousers that the Mayor could find. Hopefully, they fit your bone-stilts.” 

 

Tinsley glanced at Ricky, screwing up his face. “Y’all have a mayor? I thought Woodruff ran this place.” 

 

Ricky paused, eyes empty, before suddenly lighting up. “Oh! You mean Sawyer. We call all of our head butlers ‘The Mayor’ because it used to be tradition for a member of  _ La Madriguera  _ to capture the mayor of a town of their choosing. You know, to do butler stuff, chores, errands. That sort of thing.” 

 

“Ricky, you’re speaking as if that  _ wasn’t  _ the craziest shit you’ve ever heard.” Tinsley looked perplexed at the other man, shrugging on his shirt before buttoning it up one by one. 

 

Ricky laughed, shrugging his good shoulder. Before tossing some boxers and a pair of trousers Tinsley’s way. “Dress up, and meet me downstairs. Lucy and I will be waiting for you.” He placed a light kiss on Tinsley’s lips before straightening up, walking out of the room without so much as a glance back at Tinsley. Tinsley stayed bent forward for a few seconds, eyes closed, still feeling the kiss on his lips. 

 

Eventually, he sighed, grabbing the black trousers and slipping into them with a grunt. They were surprisingly fitting for his long legs. He grabbed the comb on the bedside table, running it nervously through his hair a couple of times. Looking in the mirror, he saw a well put together caricature of himself, a fake. He sighed heavily. Might as well go downstairs before Lucy got any more disappointed in him. 

 

—

 

He walked down the hallways, slowly finding his way to the stairs before padding down them in soft-socked feet. Downstairs was no different than the upper level. Homely, with slightly Spanish-inspired decoration. He looked around a bit before hearing a voice one room over. He pushed open the brown swinging door to his right, arriving in the kitchen. 

 

Lucy and Ricky were sitting side by side at the table, both with steaming mugs of coffee. Tinsley noted a third mug waiting beside them. Then, he took a better look at Lucy. 

 

The first thing he noticed about Lucy was the dress. She wore large black swooping tresses, paired with ruffles and a knife on her hip. The second thing he noticed was an intricately embroidered eyepatch adorning the left side of her face, standing stark gold against her brown skin. Her whole outfit was tied together by a hat. A large drooping feather was stuffed into the fabric around the brim. Their eyes met, and she grinned. 

 

“Tinsley!  _ Mi alma  _ Ricardo told me all about you.” She stood, and the final thing Tinsley noted was her height. She was able to look him in the eye with ease. Tinsley smiled sheepishly, letting his hand dangle in front of him, offering a shake. She pushed his hand to the side, hugging him full on. She was warm, and squeezed just enough to be comforting. 

 

“Thank you for saving  _ mi hijo.  _ I could never repay you enough.” 

 

Tinsley laughed awkwardly as she pulled away, taking hold of one of his hands in her gloved fingers. “I was just doing my best, ma’am. Ricky missed you very much while he was away. I can see why, too.” 

 

Lucy blushed, and began to giggle, holding her fingers over her mouth. “Ricardo, you scored yourself a charmer, didn’t you?” 

 

Tinsley paled a bit, eyes widening. “You… all due respect, but you’re okay with… with us?” He motioned to Ricky, then back to himself. 

 

“Why,” Lucy backed up a bit, taken aback. “I’m happy Ricardo is happy. You’re a good man, Tinsley. I’m proud of  _ mi hijo  _ for choosing such a lovely person. I’d be just as happy if he chose a woman.”  

 

Ricky blushed, rubbing his good hand on the back of his neck, “Come on, Mamá, you’re embarrassing me.” 

 

Lucy stepped around towards her son, pinching him on the cheek. He playfully batted her hands away. Tinsley’s heart stung at the sight. Suddenly, Lucy straightened up, eyes sharp 

 

“So when are we going to kill my husband?”

  
  
  
  



	11. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get hot and heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so mentions of rape in this chapter. Also NSFW for any of my ace readers out there!

They sat around the dark table in the kitchen. The dim flickering light from an oil lamp cast long shadows around the room, forming warped figures in the darkest corners. Lucy leaned into the conversation, resting her chin in a gloved hand. Her long eyelashes cast sunken shadows across her face. Tinsley noticed the wrinkles now, a bit more prominent than before. They crowded around her mouth and her eyes, smile and frown lines mixing to create a map of tragic ridges and dips in her face. A shock of gray hair streaked through her black curls, slipping out from under her hat. She was beautiful all the same, Tinsley thought. An intensity burned through her pitch black eyes, the same fiery glint that he noticed in Ricky.

 

“We will need some men on our side,”  Tinsley was jolted suddenly from his thoughts back into reality. Lucy spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, one that had seen a lifetime of shouting, but was surprisingly gentle. “Ricardo, do you think you could rally some men for us? Say, twenty. If they threaten to tell Woodruff, kill them.”

 

“No problem, Mamá.” Ricky was resting his chin on his good arm, folded over the table. He slouched into it as if he were doing anything other than plotting to kill his adoptive father. He looked tired. “I’d say most of them are on our side already, and if they squeak…” Ricky picked up his pointer finger, slashing it along his neck. Tinsley sank in onto himself. 

 

“What about you, Tinsley?” Lucy had turned her attention to him, now. She smiled with her eyes. “What are you willing to contribute?”

 

“I…” Tinsley rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, glancing around the room. “I suppose I’d do most anything to help.” 

 

“Where does the line stop?” Lucy leaned forward, the glint in her eye lit up, the snap of a lighter in the darkness of her pupil. “Lying? Murder? Rape? Where does Sheriff Tinsley draw the line?” 

 

“Why the hell would I need to rape someone? No, no the line definitely stops way before that.” 

 

“I was just checking to see where your morals lay. The men around here are rough.” Lucy leaned back into her chair. “I’d advise you keep an eye out. I can’t keep you in my personal quarters for long. People will get suspicious. I’ll need to place you in the communal bunks. Will you be able to hold you own? To lie immaculately, to not give away even an ounce of doubt?” 

 

Tinsley shrank in on himself even more, like a scared gopher. His eyes were guarded. “How long will I have to keep this up?” 

 

“Until my birthday party.” Lucy nodded toward a calendar on the wall. A large red X was circled on the last day of the month. “It’ll be a few weeks, sheriff, but if things work out, I can make you a very rich man. I’ll even make a deal with your train system. No more robberies. Your land will remain untouched.” 

 

Tinsley’s eyes lit up, and he leaned forward a bit. He hated being sheriff, more so when innocent lives were being lost, when he was failing to protect the people he swore to keep from harm. He looked Lucy over with guarded eyes. She didn’t seem like the type to lie, but on the other hand, she led a group of some of the toughest criminals in the west. He decided this opportunity was simply too good to pass up. 

 

“It’s a deal.” Tinsley reached out a steady hand, and Lucy gave it a quick shake. 

 

“I’m happy to work with you, sir. I’m going to move you to the bunks tomorrow, but for tonight, you can stay in the guest room next to Ricky’s. Is there anything the Mayor can get you?”

 

Tinsley shook his head. He was tired, and it seemed Ricky felt the same. His eyes were drifting slowly shut, cracking back open every couple of seconds as he tried to stay awake. A thin sheen of sweat coated his face. 

 

“Mamá, I don’t feel well. I think I’m going to head in for the night.” Ricky pushed away from the table, and Tinsley saw his hands shaking ever so slightly. 

 

“Come here,  _ mi hijo,  _ let me feel your forehead.” Lucy padded around the table to her son, kissing his forehead lightly. Her hands cupped his cheeks, a gentle gesture. “You feel warm. Your fever is coming back. Let me call Morris over so he can check you out. Stay here,  _ novio.”  _ Lucy left the room, calling for the Mayor. Ricky sank back into his chair with a sigh. 

 

“Who’s Morris?” Tinsley sat next to him, scooting his chair close. Ricky grabbed hold of his hand gently under the table and rubbed a thumb over it absentmindedly. Tinsley felt warm at the touch. 

 

“Morris is the doctor here. He’s been taking care of me.” Ricky leaned on Tinsley’s shoulder with another sigh, nestling close against him. Tinsley took his free arm, and slung it around his back, resting his hand on Ricky’s hip. “Mmm,” Ricky squeezed Tinsley’s hand, “can you stay in my room tonight?”

 

Tinsley kissed the top of his head. “I was already planning on it, sugar.” 

 

They sat like that for about five minutes, silent save for the crickets outside. Ricky pulled away when voices approached the kitchen, sitting up a bit. 

 

Lucy walked in first, followed by a tall figure. He wore regular clothes, save for a long coat. He was digging through a large bag at his side, face hidden from view. 

 

“So, Ricardo, what was your-“ he looked up, and Tinsley’s heart dropped. 

 

“Cecil?” The doctor stepped forward a bit, face draining of color. Tinsley shook his head slightly. 

 

“Tinsley, how does he know you?” Ricky was looking confusedly between the two men, an accusatory glint sparked in his eyes. 

 

“He doesn’t.” Tinsley pushed back from the table, standing a bit too quickly, wobbling on his feet. He stumbled out of the room and up the stairs without a second thought, feet thundering, ignoring Ricky’s calls. He ducked through the door frame, and sunk into the bed, head in his hands. He sat like that for several silent moments, then, he cried. 

 

He cried until his head hurt and his eyes were dry, draining any supply of tears he had stored up over the years. The tears dripped down his arms and onto his pants, leaving large dark splotches across his thighs. 

 

He didn’t know how long he cried. Maybe minutes, maybe hours, it didn’t matter to him. He sat up sloppily at the creak of the door, trying in vain to wipe at the tracks down his cheeks with the heel of his hand. His cheeks were a dull raspberry red, instantly hinting at what he had been doing, eyes swollen. The familiar voice of Ricky cut through his head. 

 

“What the hell was that? You were lucky Lucy took the time to save your ass. The least you could’ve done was stayed and- oh,  _ miel,  _ what’s the-“

 

Tinsley vaulted to his feet, falling into him and kissing him hard. He kissed him like it was the solution to all of his problems. He let himself get lost in the other man’s lips. Ricky opened his mouth, and Tinsley took the invitation, sliding his tongue in. Ricky moaned softly, bringing a hand up to Tinsley’s hair, tangling his fingers in. 

 

Ricky broke off, speaking softly against Tinsley’s lips. “What was the matter,  _ cariño _ ?” 

 

Tinsley shook his head, breathing out sharply through his nose. “Nothing, just, not tonight, okay?” 

 

Ricky kissed him again, a little thing, before pulling away to speak. “Let me help you forget,  _ sí? _ ” 

 

This was all the invitation Tinsley needed. He walked backwards, pulling Ricky up with him, and they fell sideways into the bed. Ricky slipped the sling over his head, throwing it across the room as he settled across Tinsley’s hips. He placed his palms flat on Tinsley’s chest for balance, leaning in to kiss him hard and slow. Tinsley tangled his fingers into Ricky’s long hair, using his other hand to slowly unbutton his shirt. 

 

The shirt fell open with one final tug, and Tinsley ran his hands hungrily over the other man’s waist. He was burning hot to the touch. 

 

“Are you okay?” Tinsley was looking up at him through his eyelashes, eyebrows quirked a bit concernedly. Ricky rolled his eyes. 

 

“Not again. I won’t let you deter me by insisting I’m too sick to fuck. Not tonight.” He leaned in to kiss him again, but instead of Tinsley’s lips, his mouth met his fingers instead. 

 

“Did the... doctor... do anything to help?” 

 

“God, Tinsley you really are insistent, aren't you.” Ricky sat back a bit as Tinsley propped himself up onto his elbows, sheets rustling with the movement. The sheriff took his hips in his hands and pulled Ricky up a bit so he was sitting flush across his hips. He spoke softly against Ricky’s lips. 

 

“If you answer me, we can get on with it.” 

 

Ricky let out a breath, half exasperated, half turned on. “He gave me some fever and pain medication. I’m feeling really great right about now, and I’d like to do this  _ before _ it wears off, please.” He curled his fingers into Tinsley’s hair, pulling him into a soft kiss. Tinsley let out a pleased sound. 

 

“Good, good.” That was all the information the sheriff needed. Ricky’s shirt was off in seconds, belt trailing behind. Their mouths worked together, hot, and hungry, and purely enveloping. Fire crackled at their touch. 

 

Ricky’s hand trailed down between them, slipping Tinsley’s belt off, unbuttoning his pants one handed. The other hand was on the side of his neck, keeping him still as his mouth worked under his jaw, lapping and biting. Their stubble scraped together, making sparks. Tinsley tilted his head back, eyes fluttering. 

 

“Fuck…  _ fuck.”  _ Tinsley whined as Ricky’s hand slipped into his underwear. He ground his hips up a bit as another hard kiss was pushed against his open mouth. Ricky sighed, pushing the sheriff back into the bed, hand still working between his legs. Tinsley squirmed, pushing his legs a bit farther apart as Ricky pulled his trousers down with one sharp tug. 

 

Ricky kissed his way down his body, slipping off the bed to get onto his knees, pulling Tinsley so he was sitting at the edge of the bed, legs dangling off. As Ricky placed a soft kiss onto Tinsley’s thigh, his chin was tilted up by a hand. 

 

“When I’m in the bunks… will we still be able to do this? I’d… I’d really like for this to be a regular thing.  _ Yeah.”  _

 

Ricky pushed his way up along the sheriff’s body, placing a soft kiss against the side of his open mouth. “We can work something out. Don’t worry about it,  _ cariño.  _ For now, let me do the worrying.” Tinsley tilted his head back with a sigh as Ricky pushed his legs a bit farther apart, letting out a soft curse as Ricky kissed his hip bone. 

 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,  _ fuck.”  _ Tinsley tangled a fist into Ricky’s hair, looking down through hooded eyes. 

 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do  _ this.”  _ Ricky smirked before taking him in his mouth. Tinsley shoved a knuckle in his mouth to keep quiet, falling immediately onto his elbows, weak. 

 

“Oh,  _ Ricky _ .” He moaned softly, tugging at his hair with a tight fist. Ricky kept his eyes on the sheriff’s face, peering up at him through long lashes. He bobbed his head, listening to the deep sighs he elicited from the other man. 

 

Tinsley panted through gritted teeth, letting out intermittent groans. He squirmed, bucking his hips a couple of times before Ricky pinned them down, gripping his thighs in vice-like fists. 

 

“Oh god, holy  _ fuck _ you’re  _ good.”  _ Tinsley whined, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He sighed with relief as Ricky pulled off of him, kissing his way up his body. Their mouths met in a violent kiss as Tinsley worked to pull Ricky’s pants down with impatient tugs. Ricky let out a strangled sound as Tinsley took them both in his hand, pumping his fist up and down their shared length. They reared and bucked in unison, Tinsley swearing and groaning under his breath as Ricky struggled to hold in his moans, hands wrapped tightly around the sheriff’s shoulders. 

 

“Tinsley,  _ fuck me _ , god,  _ AH!”  _ Ricky finally broke, moans untamed as he came. Tinsley followed quickly behind, panting out several sharp breaths as Ricky collapsed on top of him, completely and utterly exhausted. They laid there like that for several minutes, Ricky’s chin perched on Tinsley’s collarbone. 

 

Ricky finally rolled off of them, swiping his fingers across the sticky spot on his belly. “I’m gonna go get a towel.” He laughed as he stood, making his way to the bathroom. Tinsley stared at the ceiling, smiling a bit. He mopped his face with his discarded shirt, gathering up their clothes and tossing them in the corner. Ricky returned with a damp towel, and Tinsley muttered a thanks as he took it. They cleaned themselves up, and changed clothes, padding out of the bedroom and down the hall. 

 

They made their way to Ricky’s room, collapsing onto the bed. Tinsley nestled his way under the covers, holding out his arm for Ricky to lay on. Ricky was out in seconds, snoring softly. Tinsley stroked his hand through his dark curls, sighing contentedly. Maybe staying here wouldn’t be so bad after all. He eventually slipped down into liquid dreams, getting lost in the lapping waves. No thoughts permeated his consciousness, only sleep remained. 


End file.
